He clearly demanded for some attention and when he didn’t get it, he started to touch me. Touch me everywhere, touch me inappropriately. It was disgusting. My friend and I tried to stop him, I tried to push him away but he wouldn’t stop. He thought it was just a joke. He thought that if he was physically stronger than us, he could do anything he wants.

I finally got the courage to report him, but it was pointless, they only believed his lies, and his father has many connections, so they put me in jail not him. They did not want to hear my side of things only his and his family's side. I went back the PD to ask about the investigation…they did not have a file or one piece of paper about him or the investigation.

Then he was done.He told me I couldn’t tell anybody about this and I said I wouldn’t.I wasn’t very smiley anymore.I tried to fit in as much as I could and act normal.But let me tell you it was hard and it is hard to keep things like that a secret.

Where do I begin my story is so horrendous. Lets start from the beginning my mums bf moved in when I was about 7. He was doing everything he shouldn't have been doing to a 7 year old girl. He done anything and everything apart from intercourse. Also made me do things to him. Everytime he left my bedroom I would cut myself hoping I would die.

I said no, I meant no, and I gave all the non-verbal cues. I was uncomfortable, stiff, unmoving, and not kissing him back. And suddenly he was inside me. I pushed him out with my legs and again said I was really sore. He told me that was hot and shoved his penis inside me. I gave up. I tensed up and endured the pain and tried to lay back and wait until it was over.

The last time I slept with him voluntarily, less than coherent, outside on a picnic table after 5 years of abuse, he came inside of me. I asked him why. He spit on me and said “I HOPE you get pregnant, bitch. And walked away.

I told him I didn't want to and didn't feel comfortable and he forced me down and held my head so that I couldn't get up. He told me he has needs and it was my job as a girlfriend to fulfill them. He told me he loved me and was going to marry me and I was so blind and naive that I believed him.

All I knew was it was all unsafe. My bedroom locked from inside was my place. Hours of begging and pleading it took, to open the door (I’d have broken it down) A chicken pot pie, won entry eventually, and a lifetime of comfort food was born.

If someone trusts you enough to disclose something so private and painful, believe them. Support them, listen to them. No matter who is telling you their story, their truth, listen. Us survivors, brave, resilient, fucking warriors- we just want to be empowered so we can move forward and heal. We just want our truth to finally be heard.

Since then, this happened more often when I said “no” to sex until the point, where I forced myself to give my body to him since I was his girlfriend. He used the Bible to tell me I was obligated to sleep with him (knowing I don’t believe in god at all), saying I wouldn’t love him if I wouldn’t do it (but I absolutely did) and in an argument telling me, I shouldn’t wonder if one day he cheats on me.

The next day, you feel hollow and empty but you go to work and come home. You pass him in the hall back to your dorm room. He’s with a bunch of his buddies and smirks at you, laughing with his buddies because they all know. You hear that he’s started to tell people that you’re a slut and is saying terrible things about your body.

I’ve known this man since age six, he’s my step-uncle. Growing up he’d always “joke” about how we’d end up married, everyone would laugh and call him crazy so I just assumed he was playing, but the older I got

I finally caught him in the act, and the DA said "Rape either has to be by force or while unconscious, so if you were "fake sleeping", you weren't unconscious. And if you really were unconscious, how do you know you were being raped?She didn't care about the hours that he raped me while I was unconscious. She was focused on the few minutes that I kept my eyes closed and didn't want him to know I was awake.

About 3 weeks later I found out I was pregnant, he was going to buy me an illegal abortion pill online. I decided that was not safe and went to my parents and told them what had happened (my friend asked me to keep her and her boyfriend out of it, considering they were there that night) so I did as instructed and told the police I didn’t know the attacker, which was a dumb mistake. I finally came out and told the truth. Anyways, she told them it never happened and they believe her since I lied about not knowing him.

As I look back, with hindsight always being 20/20, I should have screamed, yelled, hit, kicked….done something other than been silent. There were other individuals in the house where this happened and yet, I was quiet…not wanting to make a scene. I should have told someone…anyone. But, I was silent. I lived with this silent pain for so many, many years. I had nightmares…I was afraid to see “Q” out and about…I was afraid that he would hurt me again.

He started backing me up against the wall.I new what he was doing.He was not just playing a game.He started tugging at my shirt.I kept shouting no and kept pushing him away.Then he threw me the ground and started undressing me.I kept telling him no and kept smacking him.

My whole act flew out of the window and I was struggling to cope, until I decided to start a blog, sharing my story and all its details with the world. This way I've been able to speak out about myself, without those judging eyes, without the questions. And it's made me feel better. Finally I'm starting to feel like I can be a person again.

I feel like I was violated because I continued to say stop and no but he wouldn't until he was ready. I don't know what to feel or think, and honestly he scares me. It was like he was someone else. If this helps anyone else then I've done my part.

These three experiences are probably nothing compared to what someone else has been through, but for me they mean a lot. They’ve made me who I am, and I hate it. I’ve hates wearing dresses since that day, I refuse to. I had my first kiss stolen from me. All these experiences have each left their mark on me. I hate being in large crowds, I get panic attacks. Every attack on a human, Big or small, it leaves its mark.

A few days later he told me he will leave pics around the neighberhood for other kids to see. I begged him not to and was scared at the thought of others seeing me doing that. I said I’ll do anything to not show those pics, he replied hmmm let me think! He said if I did the same thing everyday before work for him he could refrain from showing them.

The When You're Ready Project is a community for survivors of sexual violence to share their stories and have their voices heard, finding strength in one another. When you're ready to share your story, we will be here.